


Take It All

by Robaroo72



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:23:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18836101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robaroo72/pseuds/Robaroo72
Summary: It's been 5 years since the war, and Draco is finally living instead of just surviving. But when Harry Potter saunters into his workplace looking like he missed his own funeral, Draco's life turns upside down. Suddenly, everything Draco knew is changing.OrDraco works with potions for his past, and paints the Malfoy Manor for the present. Here comes Harry Potter, and maybe Draco falls for him for the future.





	Take It All

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was written by me during a creative hiatus (writer's block). I had decided to go onto a random word generator to help me write a story. The words were "Routine," "Take," and "Brush." 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fanfic!

The 5 years after the war ended were not kind to Draco. 

The first year after the war was taken up by his 8th year in Hogwarts. He spent it clinging onto Pansy and hiding in the library until his NEWT’s were given with all outstanding grades. 

The second year, Draco’s worst to say the least, was spent finding a job. Someplace to have a steady source of income for him and his mother to stay alive. Especially, after the Wizengamot decided to put Narcissa on house arrest and take away 99% of the Malfoy bank account. 

The third year, he finally found a job in an apothecary were a gentleman, named Nile Rizer, took him in, hearing about his knack for potions from Minerva McGonagall herself. 

Now every year since then has been a steady ascent from surviving to living. 

Draco’s day was normal. This routine held so close to his heart as it left him feeling like a normal human being living their life, as if his past never happened. All he had to do was wake up, get dressed, get to work, create potions, sell them, close up, go home, paint, then sleep. To be honest, Draco didn’t know which part of the day was his favourite. 

Creating potions brought him back to before the war. The elegance in reaching over the cauldron, the gentle plops and sizzles from putting ingredients in them, and the smoothness of mixing grounded him back then. When Mr Rizer tested his potions making, he was astounded and amazed, and a surge of pride ran through Draco. His potions brought the Rizer’s Apothecary to one of the five main shops for St Mungo’s to get their potions from. 

Wearing his work robes, a dark neutral grey, almost black, with white linings, he kissed his mother’s cheek goodbye and apparated to the front of the store. As his breath swirled from his sigh, he unlocked the shop. The candles immediately lit themselves, and the bells of the door jingled. He felt at peace. 

Checking that all the shelves were stocked up and the cauldrons for sale were clean was muscle memory by now. The brightness of the inside of the shop put dark memories deeply hidden. Rizer entered as he finished checking the dragon’s blood shelf. 

“Good morning, sir.” Draco greeted.

“Indeed it is, Malfoy. All the checks in order?” Rizer asked as he hung his coat up beside the register. 

“Yes. Everything is set for the day.” Draco smiled as he waved his wand and the sign at the front door changed itself to ‘OPEN.’ “I’ll be in the back.” 

As Draco headed off, the familiar jingle of the bells and a greeting from Rizer to the customer was heard.

~~~~~~~

The hours passed as quickly as they always did. Before he knew it, 5 batches of dreamless sleep were brewing in the back, 3 cauldrons were brewing halfway done hangover potions, and his own experiment with wolfsbane was busy simmering away in the corner. As the day started to turn into night, he put the safety alarms on each one (just in case something went wrong). 

Mr Rizer had popped in about 30 minutes ago to tell him he’ll be heading off home. 

Draco enjoyed closing up the shop. The candles seem to burn brighter, dancing across the shelves like children playing hide and seek. As soon as the thought came through, it left, being pushed away by Draco’s defense mechanisms to not think about childhood. 

He closed the door, and watched as the candles flickered off. Smiling, he spun on his heel and apparated home.

Narcissa greeted him with the same open arms he always fell into after coming home from work. He realised a long time ago they needed each other if they were to, not only survive, but  _ live. _

“Welcome home, Draco. Ippsy cooked your favourite as a thank you.” Narcissa said as they sauntered towards the dining room.

Draco stared at the meal in front of them in awe, Ippsy smiling gracefully beside Narcissa’s seat.

“A thank you? What magnificent thing have I done for Ippsy to thank me with beef bourguignon,” Ippsy snapped her fingers and a tower of macarons appeared. “ _ And _ a macaron tower?”

“The kitchen is brighter now, Master Draco, sir! Ippsy is very happy to cook when she can see the outside, yes. Thank you, Master Draco.” Ippsy said, her happiness radiating.

Draco couldn’t forget his latest painting. It sat on the kitchen walls. Green bushes and shops filled the place, a mix of the best parts of the backyard garden and Diagon Alley. Draco heard Ippsy talk to Narcissa once about how she loved going out to shops for us, so he painted exactly that in the place Ippsy spent most of her time in.

“Thank you for this, Ippsy. I’m happy you like the painting.” Draco sat down, and began eating.

Conversation was stilted, but that was okay. The clanking of silver on porcelain filled the silences. As Draco bit into his third macaron, feeling the sugar coursing through his veins, his mother spoke up. 

“Your paintings are beautiful, Draco. I’m glad you found a good hobby.” 

Draco smiled softly at his mother. “Thank you. I am too.”

Narcissa smiled back and left the room, dismissing herself from the table. 

After dinner, Draco walked around the Manor, looking for his next canvas. It ranged from room doors to ceilings. Hallways too. Sometimes an idea would hit him out of nowhere as his gaze landed on a blank space. 

If potions grounded him before the war, reminding him of how innocent he was, then painting grounded him after the war, telling him he hasn’t lost his childlike wonder. His painting was done by magic, but they rarely ever moved. He’d been so careful to keep them stagnant and unmoving, without a life of its own. He only ever made painted candles flicker.

He wandered into a spare bedroom, the first place he ever painted. The ceiling looked like an explosion, the broken chandelier hanging in the middle added to the effect. It was an explosion of everything, the green of avada kedavra, the reds of crucio, electricity crackling all around it, unmoving but pulsing, with mixes of dull greys and harsh colours behind it. It was a scream.

In the corner, written in small cursive handwriting was “DM.” His mother’s idea, really. To sign his works. As if someone would see them and wonder who it belonged to. That’s not why he did it though. It was for him. To name it, brand it, show that it was  _ him,  _ not  _ his.  _

He signed every painting after that. 

Feeling sleepy, and no motivation or inspiration hitting him. He crawled into bed and drifted off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, as he was talking to Rizer about St Mungo’s orders for more dreamless sleep, the front door chimed. Out of all the people to walk through those doors, he hadn’t expected Harry Potter. Draco took a moment, pushing back every bad thought of the war that accompanied the presence of the Chosen One.

Who definitely looked like death itself. 

“Merlin, Potter, what happened?” Malfoy asked, ignoring the eyebrow raise from Rizer.

“Oh, Malfoy. I didn’t know you worked here.” Potter replied.

“How did you hear of Rizer’s Apothecary?” Curiosity got the better of Rizer.

“It was on the list of shops that St Mungo’s got their potions from.”  Rizer grinned brightly, the pride looked to swell in his soul. 

“What do you need, Mr Potter?” Rizer asked, still beaming.

“I need vials of dreamless sleep.” 

The smile faltered on Rizer’s face, and Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. They couldn’t give him, or anyone, dreamless sleep without permission from at least 2 mediwitches. After the war, dreamless sleep and calming draught addiction became epidemic, and for at least 4 months, dreamless sleep overdose was in the top ten witch and wizard killers list.

“Mr Potter, I’m afraid we-” Rizer started carefully.

“Please.” Harry cut him off, desperate.

Draco sighed, looking at Rizer. Rizer was a good guy, empathetic and understanding, but his ability to say no was not as strong as it should be. Desperate pleas of help were his weakness.

“Sir, if I could handle this customer?” Draco asked Rizer gently.

Rizer understood, and nodded. He moved swiftly to the back to watch over the potions brewing.

“Potter, you understand we can’t sell dreamless sleep anymore unless you have signed permission from mediwitches.” Draco treaded carefully.

“I know, but I don’t have that. They wouldn’t sign anything even after they checked me.” Potter moved forward slowly, exhaustion seeming to take over as he leaned on the desk. “Can’t you tell I need it?”

Draco assessed the situation. Harry Potter, a normal auror, not the head like Weasley, looked like a gust of wind would knock him over. He had the dark bags under his eyes, and he was fidgeting with his hands. Looking into his eyes, he realised Harry was assessing him too.

“Potter, I’m sorry. I am, but I can’t sell it to you, even if you weren’t an auror.” Draco spoke firmly, ready for a fight.

But none came.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Potter’s eyes looked directly into Dracos. He held his breath. The candles seemed to flicker at just the right time. Potter’s green eyes were tired, but still so green. The light of defiance was gone, yes. But they were still so  _ green _ .

“I can only give you a 50mL vial of calming draught. It might help you.” He reached under the desk, and unlocked the drawer of calming draughts. “Please use it sparingly, I won’t be able to sell it to you again for a week.” 

Potter nodded, mouth slightly agape. “Thank you, Malfoy.”

“Potter, don’t thank me. You’re a customer, I’d do this for anyone who came into the store looking like they crawled out of a grave.” 

Potter half smiled at the jibe, and placed, with shaking hands, some galleons on the desk. Before Draco could give him the change, the front door bell chimed followed by the familiar crack of apparition, then Harry was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Good work today,” Rizer said, as he closed shop. 

“You too.” He replied, just before apparating back home.

He snacked on leftover macarons as he stared at the empty library wall. It was calling him. To do what, he wasn’t sure, but it was a call all the same. Carefully taking his wand out, he painted the wall midnight blue. The painting spell had been used so often, he could wordlessly cast it. But something, despite knowing midnight blue was right, seemed off. Then an idea popped into his head.

“Ippsy.” Draco called, never taking his eyes off the dark wall.

“Yes, Master Draco?”

“Do you know anywhere that sells muggle paint brushes and paints to wizards?” He asked, tilting his head as more ideas flooded his mind.

“Yes, there is a small shop on Diagon Alley that sells those. Is Master Malfoy wanting some?”

“Yes, Ippsy. I’m thinking I should use muggle painting for this wall.” 

“Ippsy will get the paint and paintbrushes for Master Malfoy. Ippsy will be back.” 

Before Draco could specify what equipment he would need, Ippsy disappeared with a snap of her fingers. Then reappeared 10 seconds later, holding a big bag filled with everything.

“Thank you, Ippsy. You may go.” 

“Ippsy is excited to see what you will paint on this wall, Master Draco. Ippsy knows it must mean a lot to Master, as Master Draco loves the library.” Ippsy said before she disappeared.

As he mixed the paints carefully, creating leafy greens, he spent a small moment hoping Potter was taking care of himself. 

The news took the break up of Harry Potter and Ginerva Weasley like the last piece of chocolate cake. Until Harry Potter’s coming out as bisexual article, 6 months later, became talk of the town. 

However, that press was 4 years ago, there was no reason for Potter to lose sleep like he was. No. Not at all.

~~~~~~~~

“Potter, I can’t give you dreamless sleep or a calming draught.” Draco said as he was putting his newly brewed hangover potions on the shelves.

“I know.” Potter replied.

Draco turned and assessed him again. He looked a bit better. Like he could punch the wind at least two times before it would knock him over.

“Slept well, last night?” He asked casually, counting the overall stock of hangover potions and how many sold last week.

“The fact I slept at all is the miracle here.” Potter mumbled.

Draco snorted a laugh and turned to smile at Potter. “Feeling better?”

Potter smiled in response. “Yeah, I am.”

“May I ask a question, Potter?” Draco said sweetly, smile never leaving his face.

“Sure.” 

“Why are you here?” Draco’s smile left and his voice was neutral.

“Oh, um,” Potter stopped, then furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down. “Actually, I’m not sure.”

Draco rolled his eyes and headed back to the register desk. The bell chimed at the front, as a group of customers walked in. 

“Excuse me, Potter. I have work to do.”

Potter nodded, still slightly confused. Draco pretended not to feel Potter’s stare as he helped the customers find the ingredients and potions they were looking for, or the fact that Potter didn’t leave until hours later.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Potter, I really don’t see why you’re here again today.” Draco started, head poking from the curtain in the back.

Before Potter could reply, Draco disappeared back behind the curtain for a few seconds. When he emerged from the back, Potter was still standing where he was before. 

“Potter, are you okay?” Draco asked, noting Harry’s fidgeting hands and apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

When Potter didn’t continue, Draco spoke up. “For what?” 

Potter opened his mouth to reply, but then a flash blinded him. Blinking away the spots in his vision, he looked to the front store. There were cameras and people pushing and shoving each other. Customers in the store looked out in a mix of horror and amazement.

“Did you bring the paparazzi here, Potter?” He spat accusingly.

“No, god no. Of course not.” Potter scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’ve been following me, and since I’ve come here 3 days in a row… They’ll likely not leave until something newspaper worthy happens.” 

The shouts of the crowd outside grew louder, and Rizer emerged from his office behind the register desk. “Malfoy, what’s going- Oh, hello again, Mr Potter.” 

Potter smiled back. “Hello, Mr Rizer. I’m sorry for the paparazzi outside the store. It grew bigger since the last time I saw them.” 

Rizer turned to look at the front and his eyebrows raised so high, Draco thought they would actually come off. 

“Mr Potter, are they here for you or for the store?” Rizer asked carefully, slowly turning from the crowd outside to Potter.

Draco tended to the woman looking to buy a jar of lacewing flies. As she started to leave, he hoped the crowd would move for her. Once the door opened, bell chimed, and her entire body was out of the store, cameras flashed and people gathered around her. 

One loud booming voice took over all the others. “Is this shop really wonderful enough to grab the attention of Harry Potter?” 

No one in the shop heard her response, but whatever she said made the crowd shout louder. Some looking into the shop with amazement. 

“They like the store, I guess.” Potter said, giving a dopey smile to Draco and Rizer.

Draco just stared at Potter in both fear and amazement as a few of the people outside worked their way inside and bought pretty much anything they could put their hands on.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next month and a half were dreadful. Though talking to Potter turned from a hassle to something he might have enjoyed. Slightly. Even with the rise in customers, Potter found a way to converse with Draco about anything and everything. The weird part was how Potter looked like he genuinely enjoyed himself when they spoke to each other. The weirdest part was how Draco was happy about that.

But despite that, he had a big problem.

His routine might as well have been chucked out the window. Sales were growing rapidly, making Draco spend a few hours longer brewing potions to keep stock up. Rizer had even opened his potions station up again in his office to help. Draco was grateful, and admired how calm Rizer was even though he would occasionally bounce off the walls when he looked at the statistics of his shop growing. 

However, because Draco had to spend more time in the shop, his painting of the library was not going as quickly as planned. The midnight sky was finished, the Draco constellation in the middle. Trees lined the bottom half, different greens mixing together above a bed of brown. But it had taken much too long to reach this point, even with muggle painting methods.

Draco knew it was petty to blame it on Potter. But he did. He blamed Potter. 

So when the front door bell chimed and Potter walked through, looking healthier than he ever had in the past 2 months, Draco dragged him to the back.

“Potter.” 

“Malfoy, are you okay?” Potter asked, eyes filled with worry.

Draco breathed in to steady himself. Focusing on the sound of Rizer welcoming another rush of customers.

“You can’t… You can’t just do this, Potter.” Draco started, hoping his voice wasn’t as unsteady as he was feeling.

“Do what?” Potter asked as he walked around the room, touching nothing but looking at the cauldrons bubbling away and the labels above each one.

“Take this,” Gesturing to all around him as Potter stopped moving and stared at him. “From me.” 

“Malfoy, what am I taking away?” 

“My routine.” Draco breathed in slowly, and silently thanked Potter for being patient. “I knew what I was doing before, but now… Ever since you walked through that door, everything has changed.” 

“What has changed?”

Suddenly, Potter was in front of him, within arms reach. Eyes reading Draco like an open book, scanning for an answer amongst paragraphs of nonsense. Draco opened his mouth to answer.

“Malfoy, I need to help me out here. There’s too many people.” Rizer shouted on the other side of the curtain.

“I have to go, Potter. Goodbye.” Draco said, not looking at Potter as he moved swiftly across the room to leave.

Before the curtain dropped all the way, the crack of apparition bounced off his eardrums. “ _ Everything has changed, Potter. The customers, Rizer, even my mother has been asking about you, who knows what else. _ ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Malfoy, I haven’t seen you smile that wide since I employed you. Something happen with Potter today?” Rizer said nonchalantly as he counted the stock of lacewing flies.

“Hm? No, nothing. Why would I be smiling over him?” Draco asked from the other side of the store, scourgifying the cauldrons behind the glass.

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry, I just assumed,” Rizer cleared his throat awkwardly. “I thought you fancied Potter.” 

Draco froze, dropping a pewter cauldron just a few millimetres from his feet. “ _ Oh,”  _ he thought to himself as he placed a hand gently over his pounding heart, and noting the fluttery feeling in his gut. Even realising how his cheek muscles hurt from smiling so wide and for so long too.  _ “That’s changed too.” _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

A few hours later, in the Malfoy library, gentle brush strokes of silver and light blue on the wall calmed Draco down from his realisation. When he arrived home, his mother commented on his smile too. 

“Draco, dear, you’re beaming. Did something happen today?” She cooed.

“I just realised something.”

“Must be something great to make you smile like you did when you were a child.”

“Oh, it’s not. It’s terrible.” 

“Did Potter accidentally spill a potion on himself today?” She asked, laughing to herself.

Draco laughed too. “Something like that.” 

Now here he was, painting a stag of silver and blue wisps in between the trees of the forest. Even if Draco couldn’t produce his own patronus, at least he could paint one.

“Draco?” Narcissa’s voice whispered.

“Yes, mother?” He asked, setting his brush down gently on the desk beside him.

“Invite Potter to dinner tomorrow. I’d like to talk to him about something important.” 

Draco opened his mouth to protest.

“It has nothing to do with you. No need to worry. It’s… something about the war.” Narcissa treaded carefully with those words, but despite that care, Draco’s blood ran cold.

“Please, Draco.” 

He could only nod in reply.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Potter, my mother wants you to visit for dinner tonight.”

Potter hadn’t even walked through the door. “Sure, okay. I’ll just wait until you close shop.” 

“Don’t you work as an auror, by the way? How do you find time almost everyday to visit?” 

“They put me off 3 months ago. Told me I had to take care of myself before going in on missions.” Potter’s voice was low. 

Draco thanked Merlin that there were no customers in the store. The way Potter confessed that insinuated that no one else had known about his work issues. Then it clicked into Draco’s mind. That’s why he came those 2 months ago, looking like death and begging for sleep. 

“So, did you see the Quidditch scores for Chudley Cannons against Puddlemere last night?” Potter asked, slipping into their daily conversations. Draco took the hint, and didn’t ask anymore questions about it. Afterall, he has time later to ask.

As the easy conversation and playful banter continued, Draco didn’t realise his heart was soaring the whole time until it landed on Harry’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor. May your time here be better than last time.” Draco said, half-joking half-serious as he let go of Harry’s elbow, letting the feel of apparition leave his body.

“Thank you, Malfoy.” Harry smiled softly at him. Draco’s breath caught in his throat.

They walked in, greeted by Ippsy and Narcissa. The greeting was awkward to say the least. Thankfully, dinner saved the day. As it always does. Silence was an opponent defeated by the sounds of dinner, chewing and munching, crunching and sipping, and the welcoming sound of silver on porcelain.

Before Draco put his last spoonful of treacle tart into his mouth, Narcissa asked him to leave her and Harry alone for a while. 

“Mother, are you sure?” Draco asked, putting his spoon down.

“Of course, dear. Potter won’t hurt me, and I certainly won’t hurt him. It’s a private conversation.” 

Harry looked worriedly at Draco, then nodded, telling him he would be okay. Draco got up slowly, never leaving Harry’s gaze. 

“I’ll be in the library when you’re done, Harry.” Draco said just before leaving the dining room, not realising what he’d said. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco didn’t hear the footsteps that stopped just outside the door. He was too focused on the slow confident strokes of his brushes, creating the wispy smokey look of the patronus. Then he’d put that brush down and pick up the one filled with light green, touching it to the wall as the glow of the stag began to grow with each stroke. 

He picked up his wand moments later, pointing it to the stag. Breathing in, focusing and feeling his magic run through him, he exhaled, transferring his breath of life into the painting in front of him. The stag’s head turned, facing at the sky and the Draco constellation in the middle. This is the most amount of magic Draco had ever put into a painting. To breath life into it, to give it a life of its own, both terrified and amazed him. 

That’s when Draco heard the footsteps approaching him.

“It’s beautiful.” Harry’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Thank you.”

That’s all he could say. The painting was so different from the ones before. Draco groaned internally as he realised even his painting style had changed. How many things can change just by Harry being back in his life?

“I thought you only use a painting spell for these?” Harry said, gesturing to the painting.

“Usually. But, this one, it seemed to call out for more than just magic.”

Draco didn’t know if Harry understood, but it didn’t matter because Draco did. His eyes glazed over the painting, the wall was magnificent. The perfect mix of muggle and magic.

“What changed your painting method?” Harry asked, turning to face Draco. 

Draco snorted a laugh, and turned to face him. “You did, Harry.”

Despite just coming to the realisation of his feelings only yesterday, Draco realised even more things at that moment. Like how Harry was suddenly really close and his face was slightly red. And how Draco said “Harry” instead of “Potter” without noticing. And how Draco suddenly really wanted to kiss him. And how Harry seemed to look at him with such hope and admiration. 

He reached out, and cupped Harry’s cheek gently, rubbing his thumb across the soft skin beneath his eyes. Draco sucked in a breath when Harry put his hand over Draco’s. 

“It might not be routine, and everything will change after this,” Harry never looked away from Draco. “But can I kiss you?” 

He nodded softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he leaned down to press his lips against Harry’s. 

It was a quick kiss, over in a second. But it held eternity. 

Then Draco pulled Harry into a hug, holding him tightly as he hide his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. Then he started laughing, quiet at first then grew as it shook his entire body.

“What?” Harry asked, pulling back slightly.

“You took my routine,” Draco said between laughs. “Now you’re taking my heart too.” 

~~~~~~~~4 Years Later~~~~~~~~

The wedding was quiet. Only specific people were invited, close friends, family. It was beautiful. Draco decorated the Malfoy great hall for the reception, painting white doves on the ceiling surrounded by wispy clouds. The walls were painted with flower filled trees, wind blowing petals to dance across the room. 

It was glorious. 

As the days passed and the celebrations finally begun to die down, Draco and Harry walked around the Manor, taking in all the old and new paintings that had brightened the place. Draco showed Harry his lowest point, the spare bedroom explosion, to his highest, the library. They reminisced over Hogwarts Quidditch games as they walked down the hallway painted with figures on brooms zooming around, and the places they visited together as they walked past the Eiffel Tower painting on the door of Draco’s old bedroom. 

Perhaps it was their love for each other that made them not realise it, but they’re both quite oblivious at the best of times. The signatures on each painting, “DM”, hidden in the corner of each wall, ceiling, hallway, door, window, and staircase had changed. Now, “DM-P” shone brightly.

“You’ve got absolutely everything, right, Draco?” Harry asked, eyes sweeping over the empty room.

“Of course, I do, Harry.” He held Harry’s hand and lifted it up to kiss it. “I have you.”


End file.
